Requiem
by chaoticspaces
Summary: There's blood dripping down her collar and Shizuru's tongue burns where she licks it away. Maybe this fire in her chest is holy, maybe it'll reach up and devour them both, but she'd sooner burn together with those teeth in her throat than continue alone. Vampire AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A rewatch of both series prompted this. I'm currently devoured by school but I'll try to get it out when I can. This is my first contribution to the Mai-series, so I hope you find it to your liking. Enjoy!

* * *

She's being watched.

The club is packed, a jagged dance of neon blues and reds and purples, but she can feel the eyes on the side of her head like she's in an empty room.

Natsuki shifts, scowls, takes a sip of her drink. The feeling remains. She scans the room but finds nothing for the third time and draws her attention back to her table.

She got dragged to Fuuka despite her protests, Mai already flushed and giggly with a few shots of shitty tequila. Exams were over, evidenced by the constant crick in her neck, and _Natsuki, I swear to God if I see you with another book I'm going to burn it._

She mournfully remembers how lightly she took that last threat, and how it ended in a spectacular bout of flames and ash. It's the only reason she's sitting across from Mai now in a dress that's a size and a half too small, drinking something too sweet and strong, trying to hear her across the pounding bass line that's giving her a headache.

She loves Mai, she does, but the way she can use that pout should be illegal.

"Tate-kun says he's sorry he couldn't come, but something came up."

Natsuki doesn't try to look disappointed. "That's a shame."

Mai shoots her a look, taking a sip of something Natsuki isn't sure is actually coke and rum.

"You could try and be friendly."

"I could, but I won't."

Another figure slides in beside her. It's smooth, practiced, and Natsuki has to fight down the smirk but doesn't bother to mask the eyeroll.

"Shouldn't you be on the dance floor, Chie?"

"I could say the same for you, Natsuki-chan. You've just been glowering at your poor drink this entire time." She leans over and takes the straw in her mouth. "Marguerita. Made strong. I give it a seven."

"I'm glad it passes the test. Now get your own."

"I did." A lazy smile is sent her way, an arm stretching out on the booth behind her. "Yours is better."

Chie looks so ridiculously at home here, her hair artfully disheveled and her suspenders tight over her front, and Natsuki wonders not for the first time how in the hell someone can simultaneously be so charming but also such a pain in the ass.

Mai's boyfriend should take notes.

Natsuki scans the room again. There are all manners of people on the dance floor, grinding and sweating against each other, only seen through the staccato bursts of light from overhead. The booths are all far enough away that she can't see into them and the bar is cut off by the massive throng of bodies in the center of the room. Still, the feeling on her temple migrates to her spine like a dozen hot fingers trailing up the middle.

"I'm going for a smoke," she grunts, ignoring Mai's reprimand and Chie's whistle as she tugs her dress down her thighs and picks up her jacket. Who the hell grows an inch at twenty? She'll have to get new bike leathers at this rate.

It's a race to find her cigarette the second she steps out of the club. The seedy neon sign washes her in muted blue as she pulls a strategically placed smoke from her cleavage, reaching instinctively for the expensive lighter in her pocket. That she doesn't have. Because she left it at home.

 _Fuck._

"Need a light?"

Natsuki never liked the colour red.

It was the colour of autumn, of summer giving way to the eternal grasp of winter. The colour of bruises that flourished underneath collarbones hidden by clothing, and the blinking lights of the countless strip clubs lit up like beacons. The colour of her mother's blood drip-drip-dripping out of the broken windshield like a leaky faucet someone forgot to turn off.

But right now, in the space between the club's sign going dark and flickering back to life, she can see nothing but crimson and wonders how she ever hated it at all.

Her gaze doesn't waver as a flame is held to the tip of her cigarette; she inhales deep, pulling smoke through every part of her, and it's only when it rushes out of her nose in an acrid cloud that she manages to look away from those red, red eyes.

The owner of the lighter smiles and tucks it away.

"You've been watching me," Natsuki says on a hunch, and yes, there it is – that familiar spine-crawling feeling, the one that's been following her all night. Out of the corner of her eye, the person leans against the brick wall.

"I have."

Her voice is soft and lilting but holds a certainty that sends an entirely different shiver down Natsuki's spine.

"Why?"

"I make a point to watch beautiful women."

The neon sign masks her blush, but the mystery woman smiles a little anyway. She crosses her arms over her chest and the night casts shadows across the deceptively broad spread of her shoulders, along the pronounced ridge between bicep and bone. Natsuki glances at her feet – heels, not more than two inches.

She's _tall._

"That's harassment, you know," she tries half-heartedly, taking another deep drag.

"You're not complaining."

Natsuki bites down on the _no, I'm not_ , tries to change course.

"What's your name?"

"Shizuru. Fujino Shizuru."

"It's… nice to meet you, Fujino-san."

Her smile widens, a glimpse of white teeth. "Please, call me Shizuru."

"Oh, um… okay, Shizuru-san."

"And you?"

"And me, what?"

"Your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you _beautiful_ , which can also be arranged."

Natsuki sputters on her next drag, and her eyes sting from holding in the coughs. Shizuru waits for her to compose herself but doesn't bother to hide the amusement pulling at the edges of her mouth, revealing more shiny teeth that glint like polished stone.

"N-Natsuki."

She won't realize until much, much later that she didn't even offer her family name.

"Well, Natsuki-san, it's a pleasure."

Natsuki stares at the outstretched hand before she takes it, shivering at its strength and size and temperature. She realizes only now that Shizuru isn't wearing a coat against the autumn wind that stirs the purple skirt around her thighs and her fingers reflect that, a touch too cold to be comfortable.

"Shit, you're freezing. Here, take my jacket." She shrugs it off and has to rock up on her toes to drape it over Shizuru's shoulders – she sees a smirk at that – despite it being just a little bit too small. Shizuru's eyes drift down her front as they come so close to touching and a jolt of desire races between her legs. Natsuki sucks furiously on the rest of her cigarette to ground herself, taking a couple quick steps back and flicking the end into a mounted ashtray.

She pointedly avoids the knowing smile and the tongue languidly tracing one very sharp eye-tooth.

"I, uh, need to go to the bathroom. Be right back!"

She all but sprints back into the club and charges for the bathroom, exhaling a solid stream of smoke on the way that makes those in her path cough and scowl. The line is gone and she slams two hands on the counter the second she reaches it, glancing up at herself in the mirror.

 _Jesus fucking Christ, Kuga, since when were you this awkward?_

It's been a long time since she's tried to flirt, sure, but she's never been this awful at it. The slightest shift in Shizuru's stance sends her reeling, the tantalizing glimpse of thigh when her skirt rides up, her cleavage pushed by two strong forearms, the powerful junction of her neck and shoulder—

 _Those eyes._

She splashes water on her face, ignores the giggles from a drunk in the nearby stall. Her fingers drum on the counter in an orchestra of flesh and sinew.

Is she too drunk for this? Maybe she isn't drunk enough. Natsuki feels like she's on fire from nothing but the brief clasp of hands; she stopped being a blushing virgin a long, long time ago, but the second she shifts her thighs she wonders what exactly she did to deserve this.

A woman walks out of the stall and silently washes her hands. Her blue hair falls oddly around her brow, but Natsuki doesn't mistake the eyes that look at her in the mirror. Red. Again. Not the same shade as Shizuru's, no, not… dark enough. Not as deep.

"Don't go with her."

Natsuki blinks.

"What?"

"That woman you were with." She pumps soap into her palm, twists her hands three times. The automatic tap comes back on. Natsuki sees the tail of a dragon curl around her left bicep and disappear into her dress. "Don't go home with her."

"Wait, how did you—"

"Unimportant. Just go with your friends, Kuga Natsuki. It's safer that way."

Natsuki barely has time to breathe before someone else passes the mysterious woman as she leaves.

"Yo, Kuga, where did you go?"

Chie slings an arm around her shoulder – she smells like alcohol and smoke and Natsuki instinctively runs her tongue along the roof of her mouth, tasting the remnants of the cigarette there. She remembers Shizuru and smoke haloed around her face and eyes too dark to be anything but hungry.

"Uh, just… a smoke. I told you."

"You were gone _forever_. Mai-chan almost went to go look for you."

Thank God she didn't.

"—anyway, we're going to bounce. You coming?"

Natsuki hesitates. She read Shizuru's invitation loud and clear – her body thrums, caught in between a desire she's felt only a few times in her life and a warning siren in the back of her head. It's faint, easily overwritten by lust, but she glances to her right where the mystery woman just finished washing her hands.

"Y-yeah, okay."

She'll talk to her a little bit more, see what happens from there. Natsuki won't let one weird encounter mess up what could probably be the best sex of her life.

But when the three of them step out onto the street, the spot Shizuru had occupied is empty. Natsuki frowns, glancing into the dark interior of the club, but that crawling feeling is gone and in its place a peculiar, foreign loss. Mai tugs her into a taxi, and it's only when they're trudging up to their shared apartment that her friend turns to look at her.

"Hey, didn't you bring a jacket?"

 _Fuck._

* * *

"I can't believe we already have a paper due. It's only been two weeks!"

Mai stretches out over the table, a textbook tented over her head. The two empty coffee cups beside her are crumpled into rough origami shapes, stained brown and black and white.

"Maybe if you didn't slack off so much, you wouldn't be suffering like this."

"I've done more than you so far."

Natsuki scowls at her open laptop, taking another sip out of her mug. This coffee shop prides itself on being open all manners of the night for the struggling university students down the street, complete with couches and lounge chairs. The clock chimes – midnight. She finishes her cup.

"Where's Mikoto?"

"Overnight fieldtrip. Something about exploring? You know how she is."

Natsuki's phone chimes; Chie, a picture of her open psychology book with the caption _if I paid you to kill me, would it be homicide or suicide?_

 _Both?_

The door jangles. Natsuki doesn't look up from her laptop, doing her best to rearrange a sentence for three extra words, but midway between reaching for Mai's half-full latte she gets the strangest feeling of fingers running down the hollow of her spine.

"A medium coffee, please. Black."

Natsuki jerks like she's been shot. Over Mai's shoulder she sees the same broad shoulders that have been pinning her down in her dreams for weeks, the same chestnut hair she's imagined getting her fingers tangled in. The hugging pair of jeans and knee-high leather boots aren't helping.

"Natsuki, are you okay? You've gone all red."

"I-I'm fine."

The sound of her voice is what does it. Shizuru does a languid sweep of the shop, not fooled at all by Natsuki's hasty retreat behind her laptop. She grins a little, taking her coffee in one outstretched hand, and approaches until she's looming silently over Mai's shoulder.

"You know I can see you, Natsuki-san."

Natsuki straightens out like she hadn't been caught hiding like a child. "Of course you can. I'm right here."

"So you are."

Mai pauses her next sip of her third latte, darting her eyes between the two. Shizuru smiles.

"How fortunate that we run into each other. I have your coat." She rummages in her bag, slung over one hip, and produces Natsuki's leather jacket she had written off as lost. It smells like jasmine and something metal, heavy and dizzying. "Thank you for lending it to me."

"It, uh, it's no problem, Shizuru-san."

Mai nearly sprays coffee out her nose. She grabs Natsuki by the wrist, twisting to look at Shizuru and giving an apologetic smile that works on nearly everyone. "Would you excuse us for a moment? Feel free to sit, we'll be right back."

"Of course."

Natsuki stumbles as Mai drags her to the bathroom, vacating the room by the force of her glare alone. Mai spins her when they're alone, a sly grin eating up way too much of her face.

" _That's_ her?"

"Keep it down, idiot," Natsuki hisses, tugging at her sweater.

"I'm not going to—Natsuki, she's _gorgeous._ Why the hell didn't you jump on that the second you were alone?"

"Because I have some sense of pride?"

Mai scoffs, leaning against the sink.

"You've been so high-strung since the club I almost bought you a vibrator."

"You wouldn't."

They both knew she would.

"Come on, I'll be your wingman!" Mai slings an arm around her shoulders, bringing them close. "It's been too long since I've had the apartment to myself."

"I have work to do."

"Just talk to her. I promise I won't interfere too much." Mai narrows her eyes. "Unless you don't want to."

Natsuki thinks about a dragon, curling black and protective over one arm. _It's safer that way._

Mai softens. "Is this about—"

"No. It isn't."

Natsuki breathes once, sharply, drawing the scent of soap and cleaner through her nose. The overhead light flickers and for a moment she's back in the club, desire punching through her gut like a fist. Shizuru's scent on her coat smells like missed chances. "Let's do it."

Despite her resolve, Mai is the one dragging her back into the shop. Shizuru gives an easy smile when she sees them, lowering the drink from her mouth.

"I'm glad you came back this time. I almost expected you to leave again."

"I looked for you, when I came back. You weren't there."

"I apologize, Natsuki-san." Shizuru tilts her head the slightest bit, running her tongue over the rim of her cup to catch any wayward drops. "It was cold, yes? I'm afraid my skirt wasn't enough for the wind outside."

"No, it was my fault. I ran into my friend Chie, and then Mai—" Natsuki nearly groans, tugging at a lock of her hair. "I haven't even introduced you yet! This is Tokiha Mai, my roommate."

"And best friend," Mai interjects cheerily, holding one hand for Shizuru to take. "She always forgets that part."

"Seems important, doesn't it?" Mai grins and easily avoids the subtle elbow aimed to her ribs. "Nice to meet you, Tokiha-san. I have a suspicion that you already know my name."

"I sure do, Fujino-san. What gave you that impression?"

"Oh, nothing in particular." Shizuru's smile widens a fraction as she skims over the blush on Natsuki's face, nearly as red as her own eyes. She takes in their matching oversized sweaters, scattered books and humming laptops with a raised brow, eventually coming to rest on the impressive mound of finished drinks at the center of their table. "I'm not incorrect in guessing the two of you are university students?"

"We are," Natsuki sighs, pulling her laptop closer, "third year. We have a history paper due next week."

"History? What sort?"

"Ancient Greek."

"Ara, I could help you with that, if you'd like. My work deals with many of the texts you'll be reading from."

"Oh, Fujino-san, you aren't in school?"

One side of Shizuru's mouth pulls up a little more, revealing the slightest hint of straight teeth.

"I'm flattered, Tokiha-san, but I graduated a few years ago. I work as a curator in a museum these days."

"A curator? That's so cool! Do you get to travel the world searching for artifacts?"

"If only. I'm afraid my life isn't so interesting." The way her lips twitch ever so slightly makes Natsuki doubt that very much. "I spend most of my time in the basement cataloguing and researching. I just finished consulting for a Greek display, actually. It's a happy coincidence."

"No kidding." Mai pops her earphones in. "I'll let you get to it, then. I chose Ancient Egypt. Fewer books to read."

"A wise decision."

Shizuru takes another sip of her coffee while Natsuki fiddles with her laptop, never taking her eyes away. They're deep in a different way this time; still hungry, but… for something else. A darkening of desire much more complex than Natsuki knows, but Shizuru looks at her like she's found the answer if only she be patient.

"So, uh," she shuffles to the side, "I'm writing on parallelism in Greek tragedy. Specifically between animals and humans."

Shizuru settles on the couch, legs tucked neatly underneath her and one elbow up on the back. Her hair, soft as the silk of Natsuki's bedsheets, brushes against the younger woman's exposed clavicle whenever she leans in. For the past few nights she's been imagining the contrast of it, how bright it would look against her pillow.

"You don't like to make things easy, do you?"

"No," Natsuki mutters perhaps more heavily than intended, "I don't."

"Have you picked out a text?"

"Oresteia."

Shizuru's pleased smile makes all sorts of ripples in Natsuki's blood, warming instead of setting aflame. "Let's see what you have here."

Shizuru's body is solid and deceptively cool, each smooth inhale pressing her ribs against Natsuki's shoulder. Her neck is delicate like her wrists, china-doll pale, but the weight of her erases any notions that she's anything akin to fragile. Still, it doesn't stop Natsuki from running her gaze from jaw to collar, calculating the best angles to sink her teeth before she can catch herself.

"You have a good start, but I'll suggest a few edits…"

She reluctantly draws her eyes to the screen and does as told, following Shizuru's finger as it points to various areas on her file. She speaks with an ease of an expert, someone who's spent far too much of her life writing the exact kind of essays Natsuki is struggling with, names of great philosophers and rulers slipping from her tongue without stutter or pause.

She's the first person Natsuki's met that can make a history paper sound sensual. Every word is considered, rolled in her mouth like a fine wine.

"—and around that time, tragedy was seen as a greater form of—Natsuki-san, are you listening?"

Her blinking cursor is stuck a few sentences behind. Natsuki coughs, drawing her gaze away from the serpentine curl of her lips and struggles to catch up, tripping over _parallelism_ twice before finally managing the correct spelling.

"If I bore Natsuki-san, we can always do something else."

"You know very well that isn't the problem."

Shizuru's smile turns a little more honest, a little more pleased. It doesn't stop one chestnut eyebrow from arching. "Really, now? I thought this arrangement was very comfortable."

"It is."

She sees the challenge there, rises to meet it. Her heart thrums with a thrill she thought she'd forgotten.

"Good. Let us continue, then?"

It follows that way for a good hour, Natsuki stumbling only once when she feels Shizuru's fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

"Don't get distracted," a tug she feels down to her toes, "you're almost finished for the night."

"You aren't my mother."

A single finger travels down the back of her neck and sends shockwaves through her bones. "I certainly hope not."

Mai, blinking and bleary-eyed, pulls her headphones out. "I'm going to get another drink. Anyone want something?"

"Another—"

"I'm not getting you an espresso, Natsuki. You're going to replace the blood in your veins with caffeine."

"Would that be so bad?"

"It would be when I'm the one you're keeping up because you can't sleep. I'll get you a latte instead. Anything for you, Fujino-san?"

"No, I'm quite alright. Thank you."

Mai shuffles off, hood flipped up and two sizes too big. Natsuki doesn't realize she's smiling until Shizuru's eyes nearly burn through her temple with the curiosity in them.

"You and Tokiha-san are quite close."

No apprehension, no jealousy. Natsuki nods, rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"We always have been. She cares too much about everyone, really, and I'm always there when she gets her heart broken. But if she didn't, she wouldn't be Mai."

"It must be nice to have such a close friend."

"It is. She makes sure I don't starve when I have assignments due."

Shizuru laughs – it's a soft sound, more delicate than Natsuki would expect from such an enigmatic woman. She chooses to ignore the desire it shoots both between her legs and to the center of her chest lest it turn into another Fuuka, another night making a fool of herself in front of a beautiful woman. It seems to be a growing trend.

Or maybe it's just _this_ woman.

"Come on, we should finish your essay."

Natsuki groans and lets her head flop back onto the couch, following patternless whorls on the ceiling. A distant clock with numbers mismatched and oddly-skewed to please the modern art students informs her that it's well past one in the morning, nearly two. She tilts her head to the other woman and tries not to stare too hard at the sharp underline of her jaw so close to her tingling mouth.

"Aren't you tired?" she grunts instead, ripping herself away from the near-aristocratic bone structure like a man might cast away a great, persuasive succubus. "It's pretty late."

"My hours are probably even stranger than yours, Natsuki-san."

"Bullshit. You don't even have dark circles."

Shizuru's lips twist into a sly, lazy smirk. "All one needs is concealer and _exercise._ "

"I don't think I'm getting enough _exercise_ these days," Natsuki replies, her pulse relocating between her thighs.

"Really?" Shizuru drawls, her gaze so searing that Natsuki can feel as it travels down every inch of her body. "What a shame. I've heard it's very good at relieving stress. Something a university student has in spades."

"Tons," Natsuki agrees faintly, staring into the colour of fresh blood. Did they suddenly get darker?

"I have your latte!"

Natsuki lets out a breath that's halfway between tortured and relieved; Shizuru barely reacts, shifting her gaze over the slightest amount and letting her smirk fall into a smile, the siren turning so quickly into the nymph that one barely has time to blink.

"Ara, who is this?"

Natsuki lifts her head up a little, throwing a critical glance to the boy standing awkwardly next to Mai. "The latest reject from the circus."

"Natsuki, be nice." Mai scolds, nudging him forward a little. "This is Yuuichi Tate-kun. My boyfriend."

Shizuru unfolds herself from the couch silently, offering him one pale hand. She smiles, but there's something different than the one she's given before, something that pricks the hairs on the back of Natsuki's neck.

"Fujino Shizuru. A pleasure."

Tate reaches out but stiffens the moment they lock eyes, shuddering like a snake's made its home around his spine. She knows all too well how deceptively powerful that grip can be. "Y-yeah."

"How far are you in your essay, Tokiha-san?"

"Not as far as Natsuki," she groans. "I want an expert curator to help me write this stupid thing."

"Oh, I wouldn't call myself an expert."

"I would."

"How kind, Natsuki-san."

"How did you two meet?" Tate interrupts, leaning forward a little. He's twisting his undersized ring over his finger viciously, pulling at the skin there, its seal dull and worn away.

"None of your—"

"Fuuka," Shizuru answers plainly, her smile curving into something a little more devious. "I'd had my eye on Natsuki-san the entire night, but I didn't manage to steal her away from Tokiha-san until the end."

"Fuuka, Kuga-san? I never thought it would happen."

Shizuru tilts her head, the sickle of her smirk amused. "So _that's_ your family name. Why did you hide it the first time?"

"I… I didn't hide it." Natsuki delivers a swift shin-kick to a giggling Mai. "It just slipped my mind."

"I'm sure you had more important things to think about."

"Yeah, like how to get Fuji—ow!" Mai holds her shin, the second kick more powerful than the first.

There's a slight lull in the conversation, Shizuru dragging a source into place in Natsuki's essay. Her chest brushes against her shoulder and Natsuki's certain she must have angered a deity in a past life to merit this sort of torture.

There are no gods here today; looking away from Shizuru means looking directly at Tate, studying the two of them with a bizarre sort of focus she thought him incapable. He was always the dead-weight hanging from Mai's arm – at least Mikoto works. "Yuuichi," she says suddenly, "what happened to your face?"

His fingers fly gingerly to his split eyebrow, haloed by a purple bruise extending back to his hairline. Maybe he finally got one too many kendo swords to the face.

"I… someone opened a door and didn't see me." His eyes slide briefly to Shizuru who watches him with an odd cross between a smile and a smirk, pulling back to reveal the same sharp teeth Natsuki remembers.

"Is that so?" Shizuru all but purrs, her breath washing down Natsuki's neck. "I hope you reprimanded them."

"They ran away."

"How rude."

Her head tilts up just a fraction and he follows the movement. That spine-crawling feeling comes back, a crackling electricity between them that has Tate considerably out of his depth. Considering she feels like that all the time around the older woman, Natsuki can't blame him completely.

"Well, I think it's an improvement."

Tate breaks his odd stare to glare at her, touching at the bruise again. His ring brushes against it and his wince is poorly masked. "No one asked you, Kuga."

"You got an answer anyway."

The clock chimes three and Shizuru uncurls herself from around Natsuki's side, stretching high to the ceiling and graciously ignoring how everyone stares when she does. "As much fun as I'm having, I'm afraid I should be heading home. I have work tomorrow."

Natsuki springs to her feet, nearly knocking over her new latte. "You didn't mention that!"

"Natsuki-san never asked."

Shizuru hooks her bag over one shoulder and offers a dazzling smile to Mai and Tate. "It was good meeting you, Tokiha-san. Good luck on your essay."

"Thank you for helping, Fujino-san! I hope to see you around."

Shizuru slides her eyes to Natsuki, a small, mysterious smile on her lips. "I think you will."

Natsuki burrows deeper into her sweater, shoving her hands into her pockets at Shizuru's cocked eyebrow. "I'm walking you out."

"How kind. To think people say chivalry is dead."

On their way out, Shizuru takes a half step back, looking at Tate through the corner of her crimson eye. "Don't go playing with any more doors, Yuuichi-san."

Only Natsuki sees how white he goes, rubbed in snow that fell last night from the mountains.

* * *

For the third time in an hour, Natsuki hovers over the _send_ button on her phone.

Her essay had come back with a _94,_ scarcely any red ink, and an impressively detailed paragraph from the professor picking out his favourite parts. The second it was handed back all she wanted was to text Shizuru, her number safe in her phone after their run-in at the coffee shop, but every time she tried, her stomach twisted into an impressive array of knots and loops and she hastily shoved it back in her pocket.

It didn't help for the three nights after, all she dreamt about was crimson eyes and a heat between her legs that woke her up, slick and aching and entirely unsatisfied.

It's too cold to think about any of that now. Natsuki pulls her scarf further over her face and narrows her eyes against the sharp wind, forcing her way down the city streets. A pulsing bass line spills out from one of the nearby clubs and into the downtown core, meshing with the cacophony of city life. She can even hear someone sobbing from their window.

Except… there aren't any houses here, just businesses. And that sound is far too close to be an apartment.

Natsuki glances cautiously into an alleyway where the crying concentrates, the barest outline of a silhouette, a deeper darkness.

"Hello?"

The figure's head whips around. She can see a red dress, a broken shoe, and the glimmer of wet eyes. Between the stench of garbage and urine she smells something heavier still – blood.

"Hey, are you okay?" The light over the back door flickers on, revealing the slumped woman desperately trying to gather the shredded remains of her dress. Her hands are raw and bloodied, hand-prints on the brick, and her sobs have turned into hiccups that slip past her teeth unbidden.

"No, don't—" but Natsuki has already crouched down beside her, one hand lightly on her arm. There's an ugly purple-red bruise on the side of her neck that bulges outwards. They lock eyes and the guilt there is almost staggering. "I'm s-so sorry."

She staggers to her feet, shrugging off Natsuki's hand with another sob, and stumbles deeper into the alley. She hits something on her way and whimpers an apology, thrown into the wall before she finds her balance and disappears.

"Look at that," comes a voice from the darkness, "she even said _sorry._ Not that she should be apologizing… you look so much tastier than her."

The entryway to the alley seems like miles away. Natsuki swallows but it's dry and rough, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A man inches into the halo of light cast by the bulb overhead, his grin a red crescent, and she wonders briefly if she'll even have chance to fight back before she dies.

"Don't be shy. Let me see what you're hiding under that coat." He isn't heavily built, but he walks with a sinuous strength she knows she's seen before. His eyes are as red as his smile but they're tainted with black specks that shift and swirl like tiny fragments of coal. She steps back but he blurs into focus in front of her, one hand ripping her zipper – and her coat – in two.

The cold air breaks Natsuki from her stupor; she breathes into cry out, to call for help, but he clamps one large hand over her mouth before even a whisper comes out. "A feisty one, huh? I like that. Makes for more fun."

She lashes out and finds his ears, an old trick she'd been taught many years ago. His skin is so cold it almost burns to touch but her nails can't even make a dent; she's ripped an ear or two before, back when fights got too rough or too big. They usually come off like poorly cast plastic.

He just laughs, baring bloodied teeth, and chucks her against the wall. Her ruined coat does little to hide her from his hungry gaze, one freezing hand clamping hard around the seashell curl of her hip and the other pressed against her jaw to force it upwards. It's like being pinned in a vice; Natsuki tastes bile as he runs his nose against the line of her neck.

"Are you going to cry?" he rumbles. "She did. It's okay, I won't mind."

She spits in his face instead.

His forehead collides with her nose, spewing blood down the front of her shirt.

"You can't fool me, stupid bitch. I can feel you shaking. Let's see how brave you are when I've ripped out your throat." His tongue collects the blood on her cheek and she bites back a sob, her throat trembling against his palm like a tuning fork. "There it is. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll be gentle… at first."

A soft footstep, almost unheard over the sound of Natsuki's laboured breathing. "I'd advise you put her down, Takeda-kun."

He blinks, almost as if amazed someone would interrupt him, but the second the voice registers his whole demeanor shifts. Natsuki stares as his face crumples into a grimace vicious enough to gut from intent alone, his hands curling into claws that leave uneven scores across the porcelain-fragile flare of her hip.

"Fuck off, bitch. This one's mine."

"Really? Natsuki-san belongs to no one, as far as I know."

Natsuki jerks, but despite only seeing the outline of a silhouette against the city street, her body knows Shizuru's voice as well as her own.

"Shi-shizu—run—"

The man – Takeda – laughs lowly. "She doesn't know?"

"No. But she will." Shizuru takes another step into the darkness, and all Natsuki can see is the crimson gleam of her eyes and the reflection of her teeth as they show in a languid, curving smile. Her tongue comes out, runs along the backs. "I was going to let you go, but you hurt her. That is unforgiveable."

"I don't smell you on her."

"It doesn't matter." Shizuru's face hardens, and her smile becomes more of a baring of teeth. "You have hurt someone important to me. I've watched you terrorize these streets long enough, Takeda-kun. Release her and perhaps I will have mercy."

"You don't know what mercy means."

"Really?" An eyebrow, poised as ever. "That's amusing, coming from you."

Takeda shoves Natsuki aside and sprints towards the back alley – the pavement cracks as he takes off and leaves the imprint of his foot in his wake. Shizuru is beside him before Natsuki can blink, one hand grabbing his wrist, throwing his entire body like one would a lengthy whip. He dislodges a few bricks when he hits the side of the building but scrambles to his feet like nothing happened, going down again when he fails to intercept the vicious left hook that knocks his jaw out of alignment.

"Running away so easily? I thought you had honour."

"Says the one who spat in Nagi's ash and ran!" He kicks her feet out from underneath her – she uses her momentum to lunge, snatching him by the shirt and hauling him deeper into the darkness. They roll over and over on the ground, great craters in the asphalt, and when Takeda's arm snaps in half Natsuki watches as the bone realigns itself under his skin like a great, writhing mass of insects. "I had to learn alone!"

"So did I."

His thumb hooks in the corner of her mouth, pulling her cheek back over her clenched teeth; Natsuki sees how sharp they really are, little daggers made out of ivory. The skin strains under his grip, but she can't shake him off. A flicker of pain runs across Shizuru's brow.

 _What the fuck is happening?_ Natsuki chants in her head as her hands scramble for something to help, _anything_ , as the flesh at the corner of Shizuru's mouth starts to tear. _Oh my God, I'm going to die here, we're all going to fucking die, what is happening_ —a brick, dislodged when Shizuru flung him around like a ragdoll weighing nothing and—no, don't think about that, just breathe, yes, grip tight, and…

The brick knocks Takeda in the temple with a solid crack. It shatters over his face, leaving dust in his hair, and the snarl that rushes through the alley like the roar of an awakening machine is enough to make Natsuki want to crawl under the dumpster. Still, the distraction lets Shizuru to surge upwards, the crown of her head connecting with his jaw and sending blood spraying out of his mouth.

She follows him upwards and in a movement so fast it's nothing but a blur, drives his head down into the ground. There's a crunch, a cry, a grenade of blood and bone. Natsuki's legs sting with the lick of shrapnel.

"Always distracted by pretty women, Takeda-kun," Shizuru notes, stooping down to pick him up by the collar. He goes effortlessly, dangling from her left hand, and glares with eyes identical to her own.

No, not quite… Shizuru's are brighter, bolder, a darkness that runs deeper than just physical. Maybe the stories about demons were nothing but fairytales and fallacies, things to scare children into compliance, but the way Shizuru cocks back her right fist like the judgement of a(n un)holy hammer can't be anything close to human.

When she hits him, there's the sound of cement breaking and a wet tree branch snapping in half. Natsuki nearly throws up as Shizuru's fist is forced through his chest, his whole body rippling with the momentum of it, spraying a halo of near-black blood onto the pavement below. He cries out, too soft to be a scream; Shizuru mutters something that sounds a little bit like a prayer, repentance to the dying, the last rite of someone whose soul left a long time ago. She pulls him close to her, the grind of his broken spine against the brick, and the cadence of her voice sounds almost like a lullaby.

Her arm is black with his blood and there's something shriveled in her hand, something wet and dark and _sick_ , and when she crushes it like one would a defective egg, Takeda gurgles once and goes still.

She pulls her arm out of his chest, dragging ribs and sternum in her wake, letting his body drop carelessly to the floor. Takeda's skin is cracking, flaking like stale pastry, crumbling into a fine grey dust. By the time Shizuru's wiped most of the blood off on his shirt he's nothing but a pile of ash.

"Distasteful," Shizuru mutters, turning only when Natsuki chokes back a retch. Shizuru looks at her like she's scared she'll break her, find whatever soft thing is in her chest and crush it, too, but when Natsuki leans over to vomit she remains at her side until she's too overwhelmed to even support her own weight.

Despite everything, Shizuru's scent is comforting as she ducks under one of Natsuki's arms. She takes care not to smear blood on her, but it's so thick and rich here that it feels stitched under her skin like a wound. "Let's get you cleaned up, yes?"

"Y-you…"

"After, Natsuki-san. I promise you'll get your answers after you're well."

With enough gentle urging Natsuki turns away, and together they track Takeda's dust out into the street.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So... whoops. I had a major block with this, then school happened, and then another few fics happened after that. I'm not making any promises, but I'm feeling this fic again for the first time in a while. For now, enjoy a new (and super late) addition.

* * *

"You're a _what?_ "

Shizuru only smiles, a flicker of upturned lips from behind her teacup, before taking a slow sip. The rip in her cheek that left her with a drooping red grin has disappeared into nothing but a rapidly fading line.

"A vampire, yes."

Natsuki grinds the heel of her palms into both eyes so hard she sees stars in the space between brain and bone. She's taken a shower, draped in clothes that smell of Shizuru, but she can't forget Takeda's death-stink or the blackness of his blood or how his body simply crumbled like old, decaying plaster. He's still in the treads of her shoes and every time she thinks about cleaning it up another round of nausea slams her like the right cross that put him down for good.

"This can't be happening," she tugs at her hair, the pressure doing little to alleviate the pounding in her temples. "I'm obviously dreaming. I have to be. This is just _another_ scenario my brain made up. I'm going to count to three and I'll be in my bed. One… two…"

Natsuki presses the curl of her eye socket against her knuckles. Even without looking up, she feels that heavy stare spread out across her back like a cape.

"Ara, Natsuki-san has been dreaming of me?"

"That—" she whips her head up, wanting to take that smirk away with her palm or her lips in equal amounts, "that isn't the _point_! You just said you were a… a… a fucking _vampire!_ I think that's a little more important!"

"Maybe to you. I find this new information quite thrilling, myself."

Shizuru crosses her legs and leans back, a long slice of pale thigh nearly translucent in the moonlight that streams in through the open curtains. Natsuki rakes her hands through her hair, wonders briefly if this is what having a mental break feels like.

"Shizuru, stop fucking around!"

Shizuru's smile abruptly falls into something more somber.

"I apologize, Natsuki-san. I sometimes forget how jarring this introduction can be."

"No shit." Natsuki sucks in a long, heavy breath, Shizuru's scent coiling in her lungs as thick as smoke. "Can we try this again?"

"Certainly."

"Okay. So. You're a-a… vampire."

"Yes."

"You aren't joking?"

"No."

"Are you _sure_?"

"You saw a man turn into dust. Is this so unbelievable?"

"What I saw was you literally rip out some man's heart and _kill him_ in the back-alley of a club. He _died._ "

Shizuru takes another sip of tea, hums low. "Technically speaking, he was already dead. I just, ah, made it permanent."

"He was a vampire too?"

"Yes. I have known Takeda-kun for many, many years. We were sire-siblings."

Natsuki blinks, takes a healthy swallow of the rum and coke Shizuru had been so kind as to make for her. It burns going down, but the pain is a welcome certainty in light of the absolute mess made of Natsuki's life in the past six hours.

"What's a sire-whatever?"

"It means we were both Returned—ah, my apologies. We were both _raised_ by the same person. Our sire. Our vampire parent, so to speak."

"W-why did you kill him?"

"He had been rampaging around the streets for far too long without check. I meant only to speak with him and attempt to quell his appetite, but…" her nose wrinkles; the moonlight catches a flash of what Natsuki now knows to be fangs, "the second he laid hands on you, he sealed his own fate. I have no remorse for what I did."

Natsuki tries to ignore the way her words send a tingle down her spine, but the heat spreading through her fingers isn't just from the alcohol. The cold, cruel tilt of Shizuru's marble jaw doesn't help.

"Won't you get in trouble? I mean, you, uh, you murdered someone. Maybe the regular police can't do anything, but… what about his friends? Do you have, like, vampire jail?"

"Don't worry about that, Natsuki-san. I promise there will be no complications."

Shizuru finishes her tea and deposits the cup in the kitchen to Natsuki's left; it's a nice apartment, much better than the hovel Mai and her share. The hardwood floors are dark and varnished, the furniture sparse but tasteful, and various different paintings and artifacts adorn the walls. Across the small living space, Natsuki can see the dark yawn of Shizuru's room beyond her slightly-open door.

 _Maybe I'll get to see it before I leave._

She tamps down the thought as soon as it comes, but the collar of her borrowed shirt suddenly feels a little too tight.

A brush of fabric against her knee; Shizuru is kneeling – _kneeling! –_ in front of her, the pads of her fingers hovering just over the bridge of her nose. "Are you sure you aren't hurt? I can smell the blood."

"I'm okay," Natsuki lies, part of her headache undoubtedly caused by the band of bruising that extends under both eyes and up between her brows. It's hard to breathe through it and is making her mouth disgustingly dry but hospitals are firmly and permanently on her shit-list, and she'd rather let it heal crooked than get it looked at.

"Well, I don't believe it's broken. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." She presses gingerly on the side of her nose, murmuring soft apologies as Natsuki hisses. "I'm just glad you fought as hard as you did and stalled."

"I've been in a few fights in my years," she grunts, though she refrains from mentioning the cold, bottomless dread when her fingernails couldn't even make an imprint behind his ears. "Do you have any painkillers?"

She pauses, eyeing Shizuru critically. "That was a dumb question. I'm sure you don't get headaches."

"I can, but not for the same reasons."

Before Natsuki can stop herself, she drags her thumb over the thin red line that runs from mouth to ear.

"Are you sure that's okay? I could see your teeth a few hours ago."

"It will be gone by tomorrow." Shizuru catches her hand, presses it a little firmer against her cheek. The cool muscles shifting against Natsuki's hot fingers do nothing to quell the hunger that gnaws at the back of her head. "I usually heal faster, but, ah…"

She looks away, and though Natsuki knows that vampires shouldn't really blush, she swears a faint dusting of red appears across the fine slope of Shizuru's nose. "But what?"

"I… haven't fed recently. I was going to, but then you ran into Takeda-kun and that entire mess happened instead."

"Fed? Like… oh. Oh."

"Yes."

Natsuki squirms, remembers Takeda's cold breath racing down her neck like the northern winds.

"Is it always like… um… l-like what he…"

"No! Of course not!"

Shizuru leans forward, covers her hands from where they'd fallen back into her lap. "He took what he wanted without any regard for anyone else. I promise it isn't like that for me. Or even for most of us. Natsuki-san, look at me."

Natsuki can barely meet Shizuru's gaze, burning in the dark. "I try my best to make it a good experience. It can be very pleasurable for humans too."

 _Humans._ Natsuki studies her for a moment, the sincerity etched into the corners of her eyes and the firm set of her mouth, marveling at the difference from the first time they met.

"You wanted to feed on me," Natsuki blurts out before her mouth can catch it, "at the club. You were hunting."

Shizuru opens her mouth but no sound comes out. All the blood rushing to Natsuki's face makes her nose throb and it's only because she's so intently watching every motion in Shizuru's expression that she notes the slight dilation of her eyes, the flicker of hunger quickly stamped out as Natsuki's cheeks fill with red. So close to each other, she must be able to smell the metallic tang on each exhale, even over the alcohol. She snatches up her glass and takes a lengthy sip to avoid eye-contact.

"I was."

Natsuki nearly chokes, and Shizuru gently takes the glass from her as she coughs. Each movement sends waves of pain through her face but she stubbornly wipes at her own reflexive tears before Shizuru can get any ideas.

"Please don't mistake me, Natsuki-san," Shizuru's lips curl into a familiar, lazy smile, "I wanted you for your body _and_ your blood. They just tend to go hand in hand with me. In fact…"

She leans closer like she's imparting a great secret; the jasmine smell is back and now Natsuki can identify the other, heavier scent. Metal. Copper.

It's strangely sexy.

"I've been told that for humans, it's even _better_ than sex."

"W-what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Is it that good for you?"

"Oh, yes," she purrs, leaning back. The sinewy strength of her muscles ripple along the exposed portions of her thigh, moonlight creating shadowy dips and valleys as she flexes. "The blood is everything. Some of us, especially the elders, only feed. It's that strong. But the new generation is much more, ah… liberal. Why have them separately when you can do both?"

"What's it like?"

There's a challenge hanging there, dangling on a string between them. Shizuru runs her eyes, now the colour of old blood, languidly across her body, and suddenly being hunted doesn't feel like such a bad thing; Natsuki would say almost anything if it meant she could feel the anchor of those fangs in her neck.

 _Or maybe the inside of my thigh._

"Like you're high," Shizuru murmurs, pressing one finger against the hollow of Natsuki's throat and dragging down. "It starts here, with the first drink, and spreads through your whole body." Goosebumps erupt where her nail drags until she presses at her sternum, between her breasts and so close to her heart that riots like an off-beat marching band. Shizuru smirks; she can feel it. "But it's the strongest here. Like someone is burning a fire. All you can hear is the buzzing in your head and the ache between your legs and the monster screaming for _more_."

Natsuki swallows as Shizuru leans in close, breathing the air Natsuki exhales like a gift.

"What makes the ache go away?"

A wicked smile. "More blood. Or a tongue. Here." She shamelessly cups between Natsuki's legs, sucks in the stifled whimper she still hears. She's greedy for it, letting it feed her instead of the blood. "Sometimes both. I can never decide which is my favourite taste."

Natsuki tilts her head to the side, watches with a convoluted satisfaction as Shizuru burns her gaze into the sharp jut of her collar. She leans forward until Natsuki feels the puff of her breath spread across her shoulder, behind her ear, a cold fire to purify before consumption. There's no doubt Shizuru can hear her pulse pounding under her jaw, feeding bone and brain and body, begging to be freed.

"I appreciate the offer, Natsuki-san," Shizuru rasps; Natsuki's nails bite down on the chair with just how _hungry_ it sounds, low in her chest and so unlike her lilt, "but things have changed. I will wait."

All of a sudden she's gone, the space she once occupied now empty, and it takes a few slow blinks to reorient. Her whole body is pulsing, _throbbing_ , and she can't think of a time when she was ever this desperate for someone's mouth.

"Why?" Natsuki asks, burning up to her ears, and Shizuru's knowing smirk turns into a smile.

"You've been through quite a lot today, Natsuki-san. I'm not going to rush into things so quickly."

"You were ready to take me home the first time we met."

Shizuru cocks an eyebrow. "You and I both know the situation has changed. Don't play coy with me."

Trying to take a breath through her nose reminds her of just _how much_ that situation has spiralled. She winces, opening up the camera on her phone to get a better glimpse of the damage.

"Mai is going to freak," she groans, pulling at one eyebrow to see the deep purple shadow that runs underneath it. "The last time I came home looking like this, _she_ almost beat me to death."

"Tokiha-san has the right idea."

"Don't encourage her."

"If it's the only way to get you out of trouble…" Shizuru rummages in her cupboards, one arm stretching out over her head to reach a higher shelf. Natsuki greedily drinks it in while she's distracted, the cascade of silk falling over her breasts like an ancient sculpture, how it catches and wrinkles at her breastbone.

Shizuru glances over her shoulder, her eyes more amused than anything. "You aren't very subtle, Natsuki-san."

"Neither are you."

A smile, warm and soft and something _else_ that makes Natsuki's stomach do flips behind her ribs. "I suppose not." She pulls out another sachet of tea, plopping it in a travel mug. "One more? We should get you back home before daylight."

The numbers on the oven blink four o'clock.

"Is that why I always see you at night?" Natsuki asks, chin in her palm. "Because sunlight hurts you?"

Shizuru actively scoffs, waving a hand by her temple. "That's what the movies say. We can walk around just as easily in the daylight, though it can be uncomfortable. Sunlight is very bright for someone with our eyes."

"So… no sunlight weakness? No invitation? No allergy to running water?" Natsuki grins. "I'd ask about the holy symbols, but considering your sexual taste I'd say we're already past that."

"I agree."

"Is there _anything_ that's true? What about—" Shizuru reaches over the counter and pops a cherry into her mouth as she pours the hot water over the teabag. "Ah. I guess you can eat, too."

Shizuru doesn't bother to spit out the pit, demolishing it with one deliberate _crunch_ of her jaws. "We can. Some don't bother, because we can't process it."

"What, it just sits in your stomach? Doesn't it rot?"

"It can. It's why some who don't take care of themselves smell so foul."

"So, what?" Natsuki takes the mug with a small nod, gathering her things and slipping her worn sneakers back on. "You just throw it back up?"

"Essentially."

"That's shitty."

"It's not, actually."

Natsuki stops so abruptly Shizuru nearly knocks into her. "Did you just…" All she gets is a small, noncommittal smile, the picture of innocence for someone who doesn't know anything about the teeth behind it. That strange, flipping feeling comes again, and Natsuki almost hits herself in the chest to get rid of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Natsuki-san." She opens the door to a deserted hallway, the lighting bathing everything in a warm orange glow. It casts shadows in the hollows of her eyes, the faint red gleam of a star before it's ripped apart.

Her gravity is immense, tidal-locked and spinning ever closer. Years and years of matter being pulled from Natsuki's surface, walls sucked up and demolished like paper, crushed in those hands that have ripped a man's spine straight from his chest. Shizuru smiles and when she offers her arm, Natsuki holds it and wonders how long it takes for stars to merge together.

The ride home is easier than she expected it to be. When not consistently and constantly flirting, Shizuru is both charming and calm, tempering Natsuki's more volatile edge that shows itself more often than she'd like. There's an experience that bleeds into her words, a wisdom that sounds at home in the odd lilt of her letters – it comes as little surprise that she captured her so easily at Fuuka, and again at the coffee shop.

She's also so amazingly, _unbelievably_ nonchalant.

"Someone shot you with a _crossbow?_ "

Shizuru nods, tapping the hard ridge of her breastbone. "Right here. Tipped with silver. Hurt much more than I anticipated."

She leans forward to see, but knows there'll be no scar. Still... just to make sure. "But… how… who even carries one of those these days? Isn't that sort of obvious?"

"Some are still bent on tradition. Just like the silver projectiles. It doesn't hurt any more than normal, but they refuse to let it go. Most use modern weapons… though I'm glad this one didn't. A bullet from a rifle is much harder to heal. It blows you open, like this."

Shizuru unclenches her fist, fingers spreading in all directions. "We have higher resistance, yes, but we aren't gods. Modern weapons can still be very dangerous, especially ones used by hunters. We can just take a lot more pain before it becomes a problem."

"Vampire hunters exist? Like Van Helsing?"

"They work in secret, mostly under the cross. Religion and vampires have always had a very, ah… turbulent past. The experts either have ties to a religious organization or blood descending from one. It's a way of life for them."

"Are they successful?"

"They can be. The vampires who underestimate them, they're the ones who end up as dust."

Light from the road fractures in through the rain-spattered windshield. Shizuru looks tired here, and if Natsuki was any good at painting she'd put it to canvas but instead she just commits it to memory; the downturn of her mouth, the curl of her fingers, the striated light that cuts her up into millions of little pieces. A work of art built upon far too many redrafts.

Natsuki touches her thigh. It flexes under her fingers but the smile returns to Shizuru's lips. "You got away, right? You had to, you're still here."

"I… lost my temper. Sometimes, when you don't feed for a long period of time, the anger comes easier. He interrupted me with a bolt and I responded with a fist." Shizuru grimaces. "Hunters are still human. They break easily. I should have been more careful."

An image of a man, his head blooming like a red flower, flits into thought before being pushed away.

"Did they come after you?"

"No. I left the city soon after, and they know that grudges get people killed."

Natsuki nods, her nails tracing the weave of the car seat. "Just like Takeda?"

Shizuru sighs. "What happened between Takeda-kun and I was… complicated. It had been growing for many, many years. I don't blame him, but, perhaps another time I will tell you."

They pull into Natsuki's apartment complex and ascend the elevator in silence. Thoughts appear like smoke and vanish just as quickly, snatching bits and pieces of information to try and process them all. There's a migraine building behind her eyes, though that could just be her busted nose.

Standing at her door is the first time she's felt awkward all night.

"Don't worry, Natsuki-san," Shizuru smiles, "I'll make sure Tokiha-san doesn't question you too badly. You were with me most of the night, after all."

She ignores the obvious jab, folding her arms across her chest. "I saw you kill someone tonight. I think you can drop the honorific, Shizuru."

Two brows tick upwards before settling. "Very well, Natsuki."

They stare at each other for a moment – Shizuru chuckles to herself, taking great care to memorize her face, like she'll walk into the elevator and never see it again.

"What?"

"I don't know what to say for the first time in over seventy years, and it's because of a university student. I find the whole situation amazingly ridiculous."

Natsuki's jaw drops and Shizuru takes the opportunity to snake both hands up to her face, drawing her close and placing a soft, tender kiss to the bridge of her bruised nose. It tingles, a full-body shiver racing down her spine like little jolts of electricity, but before she can really assess the warmth spreading across her face Shizuru knocks on the door.

It flies open nearly instantly, a disheveled Mai in the doorway with ratty pyjamas and a furious glower.

" _Kuga Natsuki!_ Do you have any idea what time it is?! Why in the world did you not—" she fumbles, taking in the magnificent bruise over her face "—what the hell happened to your nose?"

"I invited Natsuki for a drink before she left to come home, and she stepped in between me and a rather drunk individual. She got a black nose and a free beer for her troubles. I brought her to my home and patched her up before sending her on her way."

"Shizuru was very kind," Natsuki edges in, trying not to flinch at the intense stare directed towards her. Seconds tick by and a bead of sweat rolls down her hairline before Mai's face splits into a broad smile.

"That sounds very much like her," Mai agrees, "and I'll make sure to reprimand her for being a hero tomorrow. I'm sure you'd like to get some sleep, Fujino-san."

"I suppose it is rather late, isn't it? Don't let her get into any more bar fights."

"Count on it."

"Good night, Natsuki." Shizuru smiles, a hint of fang peeking out from under the curl of her top lip, and Natsuki finds herself giving a weak little wave.

"Night, Shizuru. Get home safe."

Her smile turns into a grin, soft and amused only for her. "Of course."

The second the door closes, Mai leans on it and stares her down. A smirk grows bigger and bigger until it takes up most of her face, her eyes flashing with mirth.

" _Just_ Natsuki, huh?"

"Shut up!"

* * *

The night air outside Natsuki's apartment smells like gravel and rust. Shizuru breathes in deep and senses the morning sun on its trek into the sky, pinpointing its position with the impossibly accurate clock inside her head. People haven't yet begun to wake and she hears the drum of a thousand sleeping heartbeats echo into the night.

Despite all that, she can still hear Natsuki's. Or… her body can. The nerves in the tips of her fingers are attuned to it now, itching with the desire to touch, pulsing with its phantom rhythm. She's never felt anything quite so strange.

Saying something, coming from her.

She climbs into her car and eyes the empty passenger seat, taking a moment to adjust the mirror and turn down the radio. It still smells like her human companion, light and sweet, and her gums ache with a ferocity only felt when she was newly Returned and unable to control the bloodlust.

Shizuru smiles a little, glancing into the shadowy backseat with her mirror.

"Come now, Miyu-san. There's no need to hide like that."

Two eyes glisten in the reflection, pinpricks of light.

"I was simply waiting."

Shizuru pats the passenger seat. "Yes, I know. I appreciate leaving this until Natsuki left us."

A blur of motion has Miyu sitting beside her. Despite the speed, Shizuru doesn't flinch, turning on the engine and letting it roar to life before glancing over. "You aren't going to stake me while I'm driving, are you?"

A blue eyebrow lifts ever so slightly. "You've done nothing to deserve it."

"Ah, Miyu-san's approval. So rare."

The lights seem colder returning home. Miyu's dragon writhes under the staccato bursts from the streetlamps, its tail lashing the sharp bend of her elbow. It must have been a very special needle to deposit ink under such stubborn skin.

Miyu keeps her stare trained on Shizuru's temple for a few silent minutes. She lets her, the road a mere afterthought underneath them, the twitch of her fingers more of a flex on the steering wheel. The radio hums with songs of redemption.

"They'll be angry, you know."

"With what? I've done a few strange things recently."

"I can still smell Takeda's death-blood on you."

"Ah. You found out about that, did you?"

"Leaving him as a pile of ash on the street isn't very discreet."

"Mm, I suppose not. I had greater things to worry about."

Miyu fishes out a silver case and flicks open the top, pulling a cigarette from the inside with her teeth. She doesn't light it yet, just chews on the end, rolling it thoughtfully with her tongue.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to smoke? It causes cancer, you know."

"Mother didn't know what cancer was." A flash of fire, the tip glowing cherry-red. Shizuru remembers smoke on the collar of a leather jacket and sighs to herself. What a time to start acting her age.

"I know you haven't broken your self-imposed silence just to talk about Takeda-kun, Miyu-san. It's been, what… twenty years since we last spoke?"

"Eighteen."

"Exactly. Can I say that you've aged quite well?"

Miyu blows smoke out from her nose and in the haze her eyes glint like primed lasers. Shizuru wonders how many of her own kin were too captivated by her gaze to see the blade until it cut out their heart in a neat square.

"You can say it." Blue hair brushed back, tucked behind her ears. Not even a hint of a smile; it's taken fifty years to know the motion comes when she's amused.

"I just forget how long it's been, yes? Time passes so strangely when your body does not remind you of it."

"You are young by their standards, Fujino-san."

"Perhaps, but still older than you."

Another plume of smoke. If she were anyone else, it would be difficult to see the windshield and the road beyond, but Shizuru lets her memory of the path home and the sound of the traffic outside do the steering. A man honks as she passes him, the whip of air between their cars thin and turbulent. She ignores it.

"What do you intend to do with Kuga-san?"

 _Ah, there it is._ "Perhaps dinner, sometime soon. Coffee? Even something as benign as skating, if she so wishes."

"Why?"

"You didn't smell my mark in her blood, did you? On her body?"

"No."

"I… things have changed. She intrigues me. I find myself unwilling to bind her through blood when her mind is just as satisfying."

Miyu watches her in that way she does, like she's peeling Shizuru's skin apart and peering into whatever soul she has left. Maybe she can. Who knows what those eyes can see through?

"You care for her." The observation is bland and careful, but it's as close to being surprised as Miyu ever gets.

"Don't sound so shocked, Miyu-san. I _do_ have emotions."

Grey curls lazily from the other woman's parted lips. "I've never seen you get attached before."

"Natsuki reminds me that I used to be human, once. That not all of me disappeared when I Returned." Shizuru taps her fingers against the steering wheel, the red of the traffic light scattering over her knuckles. "I'd like for that feeling to stay as long as I can will it."

They pull into the underground parking of her apartment, but neither one moves. Miyu plays with the smothered end of her cigarette, rolling it around and around in her slender fingers, and Shizuru vividly remembers the first time they met - those fingers curled firmly around a blade that had met its mark in the chest of Shizuru's companion, a twist of her wrist turning him to ash. Both of them so young and wild, reckless in ways they can no longer afford.

"She's in danger when she's with you," Miyu says, facing ahead, "now that Takeda's dead. They'll come looking."

"They know better than to touch what is mine."

"But she isn't yours. Not yet."

Shizuru concedes this with a short incline of her head. Takeda's ash lines the bottom of her wheel-well, stamped into the carpet. An unlife of hatred reduced to dust in a night. Tragic, almost. A waste.

"He was a threat to their anonymity. There's a chance they won't take action."

"You don't believe that."

"No," she sighs, "I suppose I don't."

Silence stretches out like a road. Miyu's face flickers in the vaguest expression of discomfort before it relaxes again, and her door swings open. She has one foot on the concrete before Shizuru calls out to her.

"Miyu-san?"

Her face half-turns, one red eye watching her indecipherably.

"Why do you care so much about Natsuki?"

She won't receive an answer, she knows this. Miyu works on an agenda that Shizuru hasn't been able to understand in the years they've come together and drifted apart. The woman remains a ghost wrapped in smoke and black ink, consistently surprising Shizuru in ways no-one else can, and it's honestly a miracle she's revealed this much. Shizuru can't call her a friend, exactly, but they've known each other for so long it's fostered an odd familiarity that often defies what they're _supposed_ to be to one another. It's why she doesn't fear the blade strapped to her thigh, or the gun tucked in her boot.

Not even those hands, strong and sturdy, that had once wrapped around her throat.

"Something that catches your attention like this is worth looking into. That is all."

She lights another cigarette, pausing at the garage door.

"You should feed soon, Fujino-san. I could smell your hunger inside the building. It will draw attention."

When she disappears into the rain-soaked night, Shizuru can't help the sigh and smile that plucks at the edges of her mouth. "Always so dramatic, Miyu-san," she murmurs, but nonetheless steps out of the car and takes a deep breath, her bones tingling with the anticipation of the hunt. The monster in the base of her throat rumbles its agreement as she catches the faintest traces of Natsuki's scent still in the leather.

It won't take long.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Well. I told you guys that this fic isn't my top priority, as seen by the obscenely long wait time for this chapter. I hope you'll take this one as an apology.

(Also, I'm amazed with how many of you are enjoying it! I hope to keep up to your expectations for as long as I can.)

* * *

Her phone ringing is what brings her back to reality.

Shizuru dislodges her teeth with a wet _pop_ , running her tongue over the crimson backs. She licks the wound clean while reaching over to the bedside table. "I'm sorry," she purrs, "but I have to take this."

The girl under her murmurs soundlessly, eyes dazed and much farther away than the body in the bed dictates.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Shizuru?"

A smile spreads her rouged lips. "Natsuki!" she exclaims, watching as her saliva knits the wounds on her prey's throat. "How are you?"

"Okay. Midterms are over so at least I can lay off the coffee for a little while."

"Good. I agree with Tokiha-san, too much is bad for you."

An indistinct grumble from the other line. "After all that's happened, can't you let me have _one_ self-destructive habit?"

"You smoke, too. Or should I tell you to quit that instead?"

" _You_ smoke."

"I also don't need my lungs."

She slips off the side of the bed and shrugs her shirt back on. Her bra, somehow across the other side of the room, is stuffed into her bag. Her underwear is found underneath the girl's motionless form, and she lets her fingers trail across the purple-blue skin as she takes them.

She's very pretty, she supposes. The flesh between her thighs is tender and still glistening, fucked raw and fucked out by a talented mouth. The patterned crescent where Shizuru sunk her fangs is little more than a shadow now.

"Then why do you breathe?"

Shizuru tugs her jeans up her thighs, shushing the girl whose mumbles have become a little more distinct. "Habit? I did need it for the first few years of my life, after all."

"I… guess. It just seems like such a nuisance."

"Swimming is much more enjoyable without it, I agree."

She leans over and brushes a kiss to the pale apple of the girl's cheek. "Thank you for the night. Rest well, you've earned it."

The day is well past breaking over the city, and Shizuru still squints that little bit from under her sunglasses. Still, she feels… young again. The new blood pounding through her leaks what could be taken for life back into her old body.

Despite her strangeness, Miyu's suggestions are always almost a good idea.

Shizuru winds her way through several side streets and alleys, taking whatever reprieve she can from the glare. "While it is always lovely to hear your voice, is this more than simply a social call? I'm afraid I have to get home and prepare for work soon."

"Oh, you aren't home? What were you doing last night?" There's a cough immediately after, followed by a nervous laugh. "N-not that you have to answer that, of course, I was, uh, just wondering. Not in a creepy way."

Shizuru chuckles, low and rolling. "I was hungry. It was time I took care of it."

"… _oh._ That, uh, that's… good?"

"It was. Quite good."

 _But not as good as you'd taste_ , _I'm sure._

"Speaking of food, um, I'm actually calling because Mai wants to know if you'd like to come to dinner with us." She can almost smell the blush on Natsuki's face. "Yuuichi will be there too, but you can ignore him like I do."

"Is that so?"

Stepping into another side-alley, a shadow hidden by a dumpster moves into her peripheral. She keeps walking without even a stutter.

"Yeah. I'm sure this is all one of her elaborate schemes, and I'll understand if you don't want to come—"

"Ara, trying to get rid of me already, Natsuki? I'm hurt."

"No! It's just, well… you don't eat, right?"

"Perhaps, but I can still appreciate fine flavours. I remember you telling me just how good Tokiha-san's cooking really is."

"So you… want to come?" The palpable hesitation makes Shizuru's head cock to one side, equal parts in curiosity and the other to better judge the position of footsteps now sounding behind her.

"Of course. If Natsuki is there, I would be glad to."

"Oh. Okay." The forced aloofness makes the smile on Shizuru's face grow wider. "Would tomorrow night work?"

"Yes, I have a day shift tomorrow."

"Great! I'll see you then."

"Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. That's more than enough."

Despite the fact it no longer works, Shizuru feels her heart skip a proverbial beat. "Such a charmer, Natsuki."

"Bye, Shizuru."

"See you."

She stares at her blank phone screen before sighing happily, slipping it into her pocket. Instead of continuing home, she glances back. "You can stop following me now, Kanzaki-san."

A figure materializes out of the darkness, a polite but amused smile on his handsome face. "It never was possible to sneak up on you, was it, Fujino-san?"

"You've gotten better over the years."

"Please, spare the placations. I've long come to terms with it."

"Apologies. I've grown used to dealing with men and their ego." She studies him as one can an old friend. "They must not want a fight yet if they're sending you."

"With any luck, they won't wish to fight at all."

"Then why are you here, Kanzaki-san?"

He sighs. "You know why."

"That mess with Takeda-kun, was it?" She shrugs. Her hair tumbles across her shoulder-blades in a swath of silk. "If you've come looking for an apology, you won't find one. We have no other siblings and our sire is dead. I owe no blood-oath. As you know."

He knows very well – Shizuru's skin scored in blood and ash as Nagi's crumbling hands had raked across her face is not something he will ever forget. Her eyes burn as brightly as they did back then.

"They want an explanation," he says, licks his dry lips as Shizuru's eyes connect with his. "Barring that, a trial."

Her eyebrows rise up like it startles her. And maybe it does; it's been a _long_ time since they've ever dared to make contact with her directly, longer still since she's she'd made a problem worth investigating. She's grown comfortable never interacting with her kind that roam the city streets.

A lonely life, Kanzaki once thought, but better than the alternative. He can't deny the wave of jealousy that comes over him at times. He may have accepted his lot in life, but he does sometimes wonder what it would be like to be free. Unlife puts a set of shackles around your wrists different than you'd expect.

"A trial? They say if they do not get what they want, they will hold a trial?" A disbelieving smile curls the corners of Shizuru's lips. "How presumptuous of them."

"You know how they are. Whenever one of our own is dusted there's a fair bit of scrutiny, provided they weren't inviting it to themselves."

"Ara? What classifies as _inviting_ the Final Release?"

He glances away, his deep scarlet eyes looking elsewhere before sliding back, shrewd. "I knew Takeda-kun. And despite the years that have passed, I know you. Something must have transpired."

Shizuru softens, the lift on the corners of her mouth tired if just for a moment. "And if it did, Kanzaki-san?"

"I would bring it before the Council and hope they see reason. If not reason, at least caution."

The sun beams brightly behind the crisp blue sky and some of it seeps into their dark little space to lick at her heels. Her skin is ivory in the strong light, each minute shift of stance fluid and confident, like there's a predator that writhes just under the façade of a woman.

And isn't that just fitting?

"Takeda-kun was reckless," Shizuru furrows her brow in distaste, "and sadistic. I know many of our kin fall to the bloodlust from time to time, and I do not fault them for it. It is a hard beast to ignore. Some may even take pleasure in it, but there is a difference from enjoying it and being devoured. I had watched him rampage without the Council's intervention for long enough."

"Why did that bother you, Fujino-san? You never insert yourself in our matters these days."

He's fishing, that much is clear, but she allows it. Moving never used to bother her, but these days she might have found something to settle into for a bit longer than a pack of vengeance-seekers would allow.

"He threatened someone precious to me. I would not let him escape to hunt her another day."

"A human?" he asks, amazed more than anything, but her gaze goes flat and hard in the seconds it takes him to breathe out his surprise. He remembers this, too, moments before her fist crushed Ishigami's spine from its position around his throat.

"Is there a problem, Kanzaki-san?"

Ice slithers around his spine and freezes him in place. The lilt in her voice can't betray the meaning underneath.

If he could, he'd be sweating.

"Not at all," he responds immediately, "forgive my remark. I was simply caught off-guard."

"Why is that? Surely, our kind have had stranger companions."

"True. Humans are just so… fragile, compared to us." He shrugs, brushing his hair back from his eyes to hide his discomfited blink. "But it does not matter. You are no longer subject to our laws, is that right?"

She shoots him a wry glance, and he feels his bones thawing. "In theory. Your visit says otherwise."

"They are nervous, Fujino-san. There have been a rash of huntings in the city. The last thing they want is another one of our own adding to the pile of ashes."

She had heard whispers, of course, trembles through the underground. But the murmurs of ghosts do not compare to a full-bodied confession from the well this knowledge oozes from. "Do we know who it is?"

"Not yet."

Worrying. Still. Shizuru hasn't had a run-in with a hunter in over sixty years and fully intends to stay that way. Living alone makes it easier to slip into the darkness, and humans have such poor eyesight.

Still, the old wound between her breasts throbs like a shard of silver is still lodged in her spine.

"Thank you for the warning, Kanzaki-san. I will be cautious."

"Good." He relaxes fully, leaving him as calm and smiling as he was when he arrived. "Then I believe our visit is done. It was good to see you, Fujino-san, despite the circumstances."

"Likewise."

He makes to leave, but Shizuru calls out to him before he can turn completely. Kanzaki looks over his shoulder and her parting smile hasn't wavered, nor have the hands clasped by her front. But her eyes are dark and hot and speak of a promise he dares not even dream.

"You have given me good advice today, so I will do the same for you." Her lips pull up a little more, the slightest slash of teeth against the pink of her mouth. "I know the Council has tried for many years to return me to them. They may even think that now that I have a friend, it is a weakness. But I promise you, Kanzaki-san, that if they so much as brush against her on the street I will return them all to the void myself. You have my word."

Shizuru is not one to give promises lightly. Kanzaki nods with a little bow, and if it's the slightest bit lower than custom would dictate, well. They aren't going to mention it.

* * *

"Are you sure I don't look stupid?"

Mai scoffs from the kitchen, the scent of broth wafting around the entire apartment. Despite the way it's managed to tie itself into knots, her stomach still manages a weak grumble.

"It's not like you're going out to a five-star restaurant, Natsuki. You look fine."

"Mai's cooking is five-star!" Mikoto chimes in from the couch, looking away from her nature documentary long enough to grin in Mai's general direction. "That's enough reason to look good."

Natsuki looks dubiously over at her, sprawled out on the couch still in her school uniform. "You didn't even bother to change your socks."

Mikoto points one foot at Natsuki, dragging her knee-sock clad limb in a lazy circle. "That's because none of your clothes fit me, and I dropped my spares in the mud this afternoon."

"How did you even manage that?"

"I saw a cat."

"Then that's your own problem."

Mikoto goes back to her documentary, sinking her teeth into a fresh bun. "Why are you still growing? I'm the only one still allowed. Are you gonna become a giant or something?"

"You're just jealous you're going to be shorter than me forever."

"At least I'm taller than Mai."

"Hey!"

Mai pops her head out from around the kitchen, scowl in place and spatula hovering. "Do you both want to go to bed without dinner?"

Simultaneous and instant; rehearsed. "No, we're sorry."

"Good. Now, just—"

The doorbell rings and Natsuki's heart jumps before she can attempt to control it. She shoots up from her perched position on the edge of the couch, smoothing back her hair and attempting to tug her shirt on straighter. Mikoto snickers as she stiffly makes it to the door and takes a deep breath to prepare herself before swinging it wide.

Her mouth is halfway open to nearly shout a greeting before registering who it is. Instantly, her nerves dissipate into a streak of irritation a mile wide. "Oh. It's you."

She leaves without inviting him inside and plops down next to Mikoto, now wearing a matching scowl and chewing furiously at her bun. Natsuki holds out her hand, and one is silently deposited into her palm.

Mikoto might be a pain as she matures, but they'll always have their mutual dislike for Mai's boyfriend. Friendships have been built on shakier grounds. (And really, with the way the girl looks at Mai, it's only a matter of time until she realizes what she's been missing all this time.)

"Thanks for the warm welcome," Tate deadpans, leaning into the kitchen to greet Mai. "I'm sorry, my paycheck was a bit thinner than I expected, so I couldn't bring the _sake_ like you asked."

Mai sighs and goes to whisk her sauce, adding spices with no concern for the amount. "That's fine. I'm sure we can manage." She turns, eyebrows shooting up as she takes in his face. "You too? All the people in my life are getting into fights!"

"Fights?" he asks, steered into the living room to avoid roaming hands that pick away at ingredients, only to grind to a halt at the first full view of Natsuki's face. "Christ, Kuga, what happened?"

Natsuki scowls; the motion doesn't hurt quite as much as it did a few days ago. "None of your damn business."

"Bar fight," Mikoto informs him, "protecting her lady-friend's honor." Her grin stretches out until Natsuki can see all of her teeth and it damn near pulls with the force of it. "She's coming tonight, right?"

"Why do you want to know, you creep?"

"Mai's met her, but I haven't! It's my turn now! I wanna see if she's as charming as she says, or if you just get really dumb around her."

Natsuki's eyebrow twitches. "I liked it when you were just loud and energetic. Now you're a smartass too."

"I can go back to ruining your entire lingerie collection if you want."

Natsuki places a finger on Mikoto's lips and leans forward until they're nearly nose to nose. "I thought I told you we _don't talk_ about that incident anymore. I still haven't replaced it all yet and it's been three years."

"You shouldn't have left them out in the open."

"This isn't your apartment!"

"So," Tate interjects, "what's this about a barfight?"

Natsuki crosses her arms but Mai chooses that time to waltz into the living room, falling down with a dramatic sigh into the armchair across from Natsuki and Mikoto's couch. Her legs cross and Natsuki recognizes that pose very, very well; she's about to launch into a story that no one has any chance of stopping.

"The other day," Mai starts and Mikoto claps, pulling herself into a cross-legged position to pay full attention. It's probably the third time she's heard the story by now but Mai keeps inventing things to make it more and more interesting, so each telling is different. A headache throbs between Natsuki's temples like a drum. "Natsuki went out for drinks with Fujino-san."

Tate's fingers, lax on his beer, stiffen. "Fujino-san? The woman I met at the café?"

"The very same. Isn't she so cool and composed? And that accent!"

"Y-yeah."

"Anyway, so—"

The screech of a pushed chair cuts Mai off; Tate blinks from his standing position like he just now noticed what he did. He attempts a weak smile and rakes one of his hands through his hair, pushing the already-messy mass into further disarray.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his thumb along his temple. "I suddenly don't feel very good."

"Oh," Mai exclaims, rushing to his side and forgetting her story; Natsuki heaves out a sigh of relief, "are you okay? Do you want anything?"

"Just a glass of water, I think. I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Natsuki and Mikoto watch him leave, the latter pulling a face behind his retreating back.

"What's gotten into him?" Natsuki wonders, fishing a half-open book from its place on the coffee table. "Not like I care."

"Maybe the thought of you trying to flirt made him feel sick."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

She tries to pay attention to her book, but Mikoto's eyes on her make reading difficult. After a few moments, Natsuki lowers her book to scowl across the top of the pages.

"What?"

"What's Fujino-san like?"

"I told you, she—"

"No, what's she actually like? Why do you like her?"

"I don't _like_ her, like her, idiot."

Not only does the denial fall flat, the combo of Mikoto's unimpressed eyebrow and the rapidly growing heat on her face does little to back her up. Natsuki wishes that Mikoto picked up the better of Mai's habits, like cooking or karaoke… but instead, she's stuck with a teenager whose penchant for sniffing out bullshit is nearly unrivaled.

(But only Natsuki's bullshit, apparently. Mikoto will swallow anything Nao feeds her and beg for more.)

"Okay, well, maybe I like her a little bit."

"You've never invited anyone over for dinner before."

Natsuki scowls. "And?"

Mikoto flicks the bun wrapper at her. " _And_ that means she's special. So I want to hear you being honest for once."

"Brat," Natsuki sighs, but sinks into the couch anyway. "Fine, what do you want to know?"

"I don't know, just tell me."

For a second, the couch under Natsuki's fingertips ripples into concrete and she can smell bile and blood and piss, the pitiful sounds of Takeda's last gurgling breath as he died. Shizuru tossing him away like one would rotten trash, the moonlight catching her eyes like they do to cats in the dark.

"She's… like no one else I've ever met before."

She takes a deep breath and she's back again, Mikoto's inquisitive eyes on her temple and book loose in her hand. "Shizuru just has this… aura, around her, you know? It draws people in. But she's also kind, and smart, and considerate. But if I had to use one word to describe her, it would have to be—"

"Powerful."

Natsuki looks up and spies Mai in the kitchen doorway, glass of water in hand. "Isn't that right?"

"I…" she pauses, rolling the word around on her tongue, "yeah. That's perfect."

"Don't worry, Mikoto," Mai says, ruffling her hair and making the other girl yelp, "you'll like her. I did."

"She should be here soon, right?"

A glance at the clock – five minutes. Natsuki's heart starts to thump in earnest now.

"Yeah."

 _Knock knock knock._

* * *

Mere seconds after she knocks, there's a lot of banging coming from the other side of the door. Shouting is thrown in, some choice curses in a voice that's definitely Natsuki, and a thump of a body hitting the floor before the door is thrown open.

Shizuru is met not with Natsuki, nor Tokiha-san, but a schoolgirl who skids into the open doorframe like she's used to tearing around the world at triple speed. Her uniform is dusty and ragged and her socked feet have holes in them, but her grin is warm and her eyes are bright – yellow?

Shizuru's eyebrows lift. That's interesting.

"You must be Fujino-san!" The girl exclaims, and from inside the apartment Shizuru can see the lump of a body rising from the carpet with a groan. "It's so great to finally meet you, Natsuki won't shut up about how you helped her ace her paper!"

Shizuru laughs, adjusting her grip on the bottle of _sake_. "Ara, you must be the mysterious third person who shares this apartment. I'm afraid I never caught your name."

"I'm Minagi Mikoto! Mhm!" She grins, braids shaking. "But you can just call me Mikoto. You've already passed the first test."

"Is that so?"

"Mikoto! Let the woman inside, for God's sake!"

Mai bumps her out the way, apron splotched and smile beaming. "Fujino-san! I'm so glad you could make it!"

She leans in for a hug and Shizuru accepts, folding her free arm around her shoulders and subtly breathing in. The fresh blood running through her old veins stops the hunger pangs, but her stomach still groans uncertainly at the scent of fresh cooking that wafts up from Mai's clothing. It's been a long time since food made her, well… hungry. It's strange, but not unwelcome. "It's good to see you again, Tokiha-san. I hope this will suffice."

Mai accepts the bottle of _sake_ with a beaming grin, turning it over in her eager hands. "This is perfect! Tate-kun didn't end up buying any, so I thought I'd have to substitute with something else in the broth. I'm afraid there won't be that much left for drinking, though."

Shizuru pulls open her jacket, revealing the hint of a stoppered cork. "I made sure to buy two."

"You're a blessing," Mai groans as she ushers her inside, already making her way back to the kitchen. "I need to tell Natsuki to bring you over more often. She's probably hiding in the living room."

"I am not _hiding!_ "

Still, for all her posturing, Natsuki waits for Shizuru to come to her with a blush strong enough she could smell it from across the apartment. She holds a book loosely in her hand, evidently unread, and does her best to appear unaffected. Shizuru smiles.

"We must stop meeting like this, Natsuki-san."

"Didn't I tell you to just call me Natsuki?"

"Ara, my apologies. It's the Kyoto upbringing in me."

"You don't have any trouble remembering on the phone."

"Well, then I can't see Natsuki-san's face. It is easier to not get distracted."

In a few long strides, she crosses the floor until they're only a few feet away. With only a minute hesitation, Shizuru cups her face in one hand and runs a gentle thumb along the heavy-banded bruising still stretched across her brow. "Still healing, I see. Does it hurt?"

"N-not that much."

Shizuru scrutinizes the meld of colours before lighting tapping between Natsuki's brows. She flinches and curls away, skin prickling a little at the sound of Shizuru's tsk. "Lying to me now, are you?"

"It's not that bad. I promise."

"Still. If I was faster, then—"

"Maybe," Natsuki cuts her off, catching the hand still on her face and squeezing gently, "but it'll heal, and I'll be okay. I'm not as delicate as you think."

Her fingers burn where Natsuki touches them, and Shizuru looks away to hide exactly how much attention she puts to it. "You're right. It's been so long since I had to inhabit a human body that I've forgotten how adept they can be. Besides…" she smiles, finally dropping her hands and missing it immediately, "I like this colour on you, though I think I like red a bit more."

There's a shuffle behind her, and Shizuru tilts her head towards the doorway. "Is there something you want, Mikoto-san?"

Natsuki springs away from her as if struck, and the rush of blood to her face at such a close distance has Shizuru's mouth watering. So close, so abundant, so rich. If only she could—just a taste, surely, it wouldn't be so bad? Just… just one?

"Mai says dinner's ready."

Shizuru catches herself and lets her hand fall to her side. Though her veins are full, they still ache.

"I'll be there in a moment. I just need to freshen up."

She hands Natsuki her coat, following the hallway to the nearest bathroom.

"I think Tate is still in there," Mikoto calls after her, "if he made it gross you can use the one in Natsuki's room."

 _Yuuichi, huh?_

Shizuru glides her tongue over one of her fangs. "Is he not feeling well?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. He was acting weird."

On the other side of the door, she can hear him shuffling and muttering to himself, the run of the taps doing enough to eclipse her hearing that it becomes indistinct. Unease rolls off him like the tide though his measured breathing tries to hide it – Shizuru tamps down her smirk and knocks.

"Sorry, out in a second!"

"Take your time, Yuuichi-kun."

His shuffling stops abruptly for a moment before returning with force, and it's only a matter of seconds until the door opens. He smiles at her, albeit weakly, and nods his head. "I'm sorry for making you wait."

"I heard you weren't feeling well."

"Ah, yes… I'm better now, though."

The unnatural paleness to his cheeks attests otherwise, but she simply smiles back.

"That's good. We wouldn't want anything ruining tonight, would we?"

"No, uh, we wouldn't."

She takes a step into the bathroom, but lingers on his face. "Walked into another door, Yuuichi-kun?"

He twists his ring around in a vicious circle – it catches a flash of pale light from the overhead bulb, and Shizuru sees the faintest etchings of a serpent, mouth open wide and angry.

"No, uh, not this time."

Shizuru shakes her head. "All the people in Tokiha-san's life are hurting themselves. Don't be picking fights like Natsuki-san, now."

When she closes the door, he remains pinned to the spot for several moments before retreating to the main room. Shizuru grins at her reflection, and her lips pull back far enough to show the roots of polished, heavy-set fangs.

"Now, now," she scolds herself, watching in the mirror as they shrink back a little bit into her gums, "behave. You can't eat like that."

Her smile goes from predatory to pointed, and it's good enough.

* * *

Mikoto's already taken her miso soup and one of her rolls, but her stomach is too in knots to care.

Natsuki swirls her udon noodles around in the broth, picking little pieces of beef and onion out of the soup to busy her hands. Tate stares down at his miso soup without seeing it. Mai is chatting pleasantly with the object of Natsuki's anxiety, who delicately spears another _takoyaki_ and plops it into her fanged mouth.

"These are very good, Tokiha-san," Shizuru says from behind her palm, reaching for her wine glass. "It's been a long time since I've had a meal so full of flavour."

"Mai's cooking is always this good!" Mikoto enthuses, taking a massive bite out of her _onigiri_. "It's why Natsuki keeps growing even though she should have stopped like four years ago."

Natsuki glowers and takes a mouthful of noodles. Her stomach, finally loosening a bit at the complete lack of concern on Shizuru's face, sourly grumbles its impatience. "You're just mad that I'm still taller than you."

"Maybe if you didn't eat so much."

"Look who's talking!"

Shizuru sips on her _sake_ , letting it soak over her tongue. "Do they always fight like that?"

"Ever since we were kids," Mai sighs. "We'll be eighty and they'll still be arguing."

"You've known each other a while, then?"

"Natsuki and I were in the same primary school. We went to middle school and high school together, too."

"And you just ended up at the same university?"

Mai shrugs. "We'd been living together since last year of high school. It only seemed right."

Natsuki deals with Shizuru's gaze on her by stuffing a fresh _takoyaki_ in her mouth and burning her tongue on the inside. "She can't live without me," she manages to get out anyway.

"Please," Mai scoffs, gladly accepting Shizuru's offer of more sake, "you were such a crybaby when we were younger. I was always the one taking care of you."

"Oh?" It might sound like mild interest, but Natsuki knows better. Shizuru looks at her over the lip of her _ochoko_ with a soft, satisfied amusement that makes Natsuki's blood burn in a way she's only ever felt with the other woman. "But Natsuki is so strong and stoic now."

"That happened during middle school, Fujino-san," Mai smiles conspiratorially. Her cheeks flush with the next sip of _sake_. "In essence, the cool façade is just used to pick up girls."

"Mai!" Natsuki squeaks, delivering a _very_ firm kick underneath the table. Mai giggles into her napkin before pushing herself upright, back into her own seat and reaching yet again for her _ochoko_. Tate puts a hand around her wrist and guides it back to her chopsticks.

"Come on," he says, guiding her hand to pick up a _takoyaki_ , "you've barely eaten any of the food you made."

"Fujino-san and I were having a conversation!"

"And you can have more conversation while you're eating."

"This is why I didn't want to invite her over," Natsuki mutters to Mikoto, who chomps down her third _onigiri_ with what could pass as a sympathetic expression. "Mai's first passion in life is to embarrass me."

"No, her first passion is karaoke. This is her second."

"So, Minagi-san," Shizuru interrupts smoothly. Mikoto's head jerks up like a puppet. "Did you know Natsuki in primary school?"

"Nope," Mikoto says, starting on her second helping of _udon_. "I met them when they were in middle school. I was still in primary."

"Mikoto is three years below us," Natsuki fills in.

"So Natsuki was already cold and grumpy by the time we met."

Mikoto dodges Natsuki's kick through years of practice.

"You're still in high school?"

"Yep! Last year!"

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

Mikoto shrugs, pushing the leftover rice in her bowl. "Not really. Help my grandfather, probably."

Shizuru smiles. "Don't worry. I wasn't sure what I was going to do either."

"Really?"

"I'd just experienced a rather… life changing event. I didn't have any direction."

Natsuki nervously gulps down her _sake_ and watches Shizuru put more rice in her mouth like she was talking about the weather. There's a sly slant to her eyes, however, that tells Natsuki this type of misdirection isn't anything new.

"So what did you do?"

"I travelled."

Mai groans. "No wonder you seem so mature; you've been all over! For how long?"

This time, a smile sneaks onto Shizuru's face. It's small and secret, only special for the both of them. "A while."

"Ah, Fujino-san?"

Shizuru glances over the various dishes and glasses at Tate. They're almost at other ends of the table, but their eyes connect and that same energy that appeared when they first met passes between them. It's gone so quick Natsuki could have imagined it if it wasn't for the nervous way he grips his knife.

"Yes?"

"What university did you attend?"

"Kyoto University."

"For what?"

"Double major, history and anthropology."

"Oh? When did you graduate?"

Shizuru gives a small, pleasant smile before her next sip of _sake_. "Two years ago. Would Yuuichi-kun like a copy of my diploma as well?"

"N-no, I was just—"

Mai sinks her nails into his wrist. "Tate-kun has a younger sister that's going to Kyoto University," she fills in over the sound of his yelp, "so he's just eager to know more about the school. He apologizes for being so intrusive. Isn't that right?"

"Shiho-chan got into Kyoto?" Mikoto grins. "Good for her! Are you ever gonna go back to school, Tate?"

"No way," Natsuki scoffs, "you remember when he dropped out last year? _These institutions are perversions of learning! I refuse to sit down and be taught by academia who have sold their souls to demons!"_

"That isn't—"

"That is _exactly_ what you said. I was there."

"I had an epiphany," Tate shoots back, his cheeks rapidly blooming a rusty red. "I decided that school wasn't for me."

"Honestly," Mai sighs, spooning a bit of broth. "Ever since you came back from your visit with your grandfather, you've been saying the strangest things."

"Ara, aren't all of you being a little hard on Yuuichi-kun? Surely youth leaves some time for mistakes."

 _Don't take his side,_ Natsuki almost snaps, but the amused glimmer in Shizuru's gaze stops her short. She watches Tate sweat in his seat with a surprising nonchalance, but the soft overhead lighting catches the faintest flash of a fang before it's concealed back under her smiling lips. Natsuki gulps; it's a lot bigger than the ones she saw on Shizuru the night she was rescued.

She'd sweat too, being watched like a hawk does a mouse.

"You say that like you're that much older than us," Mai grumbles, and Shizuru holds in a chuckle.

"I'm nearly thirty, actually."

Natsuki chokes on her _sake_ and has to rely on Mikoto pounding her back to get it out. "Is that so funny, Natsuki?" She hears the lilt of mirth in Shizuru's question and glares at her through her tearing eyes, cheek nearly pressed to the table.

"N-no," she mutters hoarsely, "you just… look young."

Her forehead is forced onto the table by Mai's open palm. "Look young?" Her best friend hisses into her ear, her nails sharp and angry on Natsuki's scalp. "Do you _want_ to offend her? I swear, now _you're_ saying stupid things too."

"T-that's not what I meant!"

"It's quite all right, Tokiha-san," Shizuru says, "I always get mistaken for younger than I am, but sometimes I feel as old as the relics I watch over."

As Shizuru puts the final piece of _takoyaki_ into her mouth, her expression changes from pleasant into careful neutrality. Only Natsuki notices the way her lips twitch down for a second, but the sound of her chair scraping cuts through the bickering of the room.

"Excuse me," Shizuru says, her voice coming out just the slightest bit flat. "I have to use the bathroom."

"Down the—" Mai starts, but she turns and vanishes before she can even complete the sentence. "Well, I guess she's already been before."

The four of them remaining lean back on their chairs, tenderly nursing swollen stomachs each.

"Fujino-san's appetite is something else," Mai exhales as she scans all the empty dishes, "she even ate more than Mikoto."

"She said she was excited to try your cooking, Mai."

Still very much filled with sake, Mai instantly goes crimson. "Oh, you're so lucky, Natsuki! She really knows how to make a girl feel special!"

Natsuki eyes Shizuru's empty bowl, one spoon of broth the only thing left remaining.

 _I wonder if she hit her limit?_

* * *

Shizuru spits the last of the mouthwash into the sink with a sigh. The running tap had obscured the sounds of her retching, but it was just as unpleasant as it was when she had a stomach that worked.

 _You knew better than to push yourself,_ she frowns at her reflection in the mirror, _what were you thinking?_

But it had been so _good_ and it was so _long_ ago that she had entertained the company of so many people at once. All of them friendly, all of them welcoming. Eating, no less! What was she, human?

She chuckles under her breath and washes her hands. She can still hear them in the dining room, the clink of the _sake_ bottle meeting the _ochoko_. When she opens the door, the soft light from the kitchen spills into the hallway and brings with it the still-fragrant smell of broth. If her stomach could rumble, it would.

Halfway back to her company, she passes an open door. The familiar smell of leather and cigarettes wafts over her and she steps towards it like drawn to a flame. Through the darkness she spies a single bed, gauzy curtains, and dark blue walls. Natsuki's room.

Now, Shizuru knows it's a complete invasion of privacy. She knows she should turn back, close the door, and rejoin her companions. But that strange, irrational part of her that's woken up since she met Natsuki puts one foot in front of the other until she's standing in her room without the lights on, eyes traveling slow and steady over every nook given to her. There's a small bookshelf that's leaning haphazardly against the far wall, a full-length mirror that's seen better days, and a dresser crammed with hair product. There's a copy of _Interview with a Vampire_ on Natsuki's bedside table, obviously new.

Shizuru grins.

"Doing some research, Natsuki-san?" she murmurs under her breath, picking it up to inspect. As she does, a bookmark flutters to the floor – as she catches it, she realizes it's instead a set of photobooth pictures. A glowering Natsuki refuses to look at the camera in the first picture, but a grinning Mai and Mikoto don't seem to mind. By the last, they've wrestled her directly into the frame, and she can't hide the smile stretched over her face.

She flips it over. In messy cursive is _last day of high school_ with a different coloured heart next to it. Undoubtedly Mai's doing. Upon closer inspection, the three of them are wearing uniforms, though only Mai and Natsuki match.

Shizuru clears her throat and gingerly puts the book back where it belongs, steadfastly ignoring the strange flare of arousal through her belly. It's not her fault the uniform makes her look so… young. And pretty.

"You're acting like an old pervert," she sighs to herself, moving on. There's books _everywhere_ , stacked up and boxed away and scattered all over the bookshelf. There's even a few on her dresser. She goes to push them out of the way and unearths another picture, this one framed and obviously well-cared for. Shizuru squints in the darkness. In it are two people, a woman and a girl, and it takes her only one glance to determine it must be Natsuki's mother.

 _No wonder she's gorgeous, she looks exactly like her._

It was taken quite some time ago. This Natsuki has a gap-toothed grin and a carelessness that would look out of place on her now. The realization that this was taken probably no more than fifteen years ago makes Shizuru feel very old indeed.

"There you are, Fujino-san."

Shizuru whips around, startled, sure to put the picture back where she found it. Mikoto stands in the doorway, her slight frame illuminated by the hazy hallway light, but she can still see the inquisitive glimmer of her topaz eyes.

"Ah, my apologies," Shizuru smiles pleasantly, "I didn't hear you coming. I was just looking for the alternate bathroom."

Mikoto steps forward into the space, and the door closes behind her with a soft _click._ There's a look on her face that Shizuru can't place – despite herself, a quick bolt of anxiety flares through her before dissipating. "I'm very good at being quiet."

"So it would seem."

"And you're very good at blending in."

Shizuru's eyebrow quirks. "I beg your pardon?"

Mikoto smiles, but there's no malice in it. "It's okay, Fujino-san. I was hoping to talk to you alone, so there's no need to pretend."

It's dark inside the room, so dark that even Shizuru can't see the details surrounding them, but Mikoto's eyes stay firmly trained on her. "Pretend what, exactly?"

"To be human."

Shizuru stiffens from her spine to her toes. A million different diversions run through her head, one after another, but none seem sufficient under the scrutiny of the younger girl's gaze. She even considers vaulting clear through the window, but ultimately decides against it once she realizes how far of a drop it is.

It wouldn't kill her, but it would hurt.

"What are you implying?" she says instead, her face carefully neutral. Mikoto chuckles and takes another step forward until it's just the bed separating them.

"My grandfather is a priest," Mikoto says instead, flopping down onto the bed. She peers up at Shizuru from the comforter, legs crossed at the ankles. "So was his grandfather before him, and so on. We've been worshippers of Nekogami-sama for as long as our family remembers. Some say we're even her descendants."

Shizuru gingerly takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Mikoto rolls to face her, stretching languidly in the dark. "But for being loyal to her, she gifted our family with her eyes. They let us see things that other people can't. That they shouldn't." She taps her temple with a smirk. "Like you."

"So I was right," Shizuru murmurs, looking at her with a new appreciation. Her spine begins to unlock section by section, settling back into neutral alignment with a groan. "You are different."

"So are you."

"So I am." A car passes by the lonely street in front of their apartment, and the traveling headlight passes orange over Shizuru's face – her grin allows her fangs to gleam white in the dark. The uptick of Mikoto's heartbeat sounds like an underwater drum in the stillness. "What did you wish to talk about, Mina- ah, Mikoto-san?"

"You're a vampire, aren't you?"

"I thought you said you could see it?"

"I can see that you aren't human," Mikoto corrects, "but you aren't the only type of monster out there." She cocks her head then, running her gaze thoughtfully across Shizuru's body. "Though maybe monster isn't the right word for you."

Shizuru can't help the way her brows lift. "Is that so? The rest of the world would disagree."

"The rest of the world thinks you're just fantasy material," she gestures to the book open at Natsuki's bedside, "so why should I care what it thinks?"

A laugh escapes Shizuru's lips, low and rasping. "I suppose you have a point." She settles further back on her hands, watching the younger girl from the corner of her eye. "So if I'm not a monster, what am I?"

The gaze pinned to her own reminds Shizuru of another set of eyes, a lighter red but piercing all the same. It's absurd, but she wonders if Mikoto and Miyu knew each other in another life. "I don't know," Mikoto says, thoughtful and solemn at once, "but you wouldn't have saved Natsuki that night if you were."

"Ara, you saw through that, did you?"

"Only when you came over. Natsuki loves bragging about beating people up, but she's been real quiet about it this time. I knew something was weird."

Shizuru hums, watching the silhouette of a tree wave through Natsuki's curtain. "What do you see when you look at me?"

Mikoto shrugs. "It's hard to describe. An aura, I guess? Normal people don't have one. I feel it, too." She frowns, then, looking away. "I've seen your kind before. They have this awful cloud hanging over them… it stinks."

"I know what you mean," Shizuru agrees. "Many of them were bad people before they Returned, and they only got worse from there. I was exiled a long time ago, but I like it better that way."

"What did you do?"

She grins. "A lady must be allowed to keep _some_ secrets, no?"

A knock on the door. "Fujino-san? Mikoto? Are you in there?"

"Yeah!" Mikoto calls out. "The bathroom was still gross thanks to Tate, so I'm waiting for this one."

Mai heaves a sigh from the other side of the door. "Well, dessert is ready whenever you want it."

"Is it _manju_?"

"That's what the lady of the house requested," Mai says fondly as Mikoto cheers. "Hurry before it gets cold."

"I will!"

Mikoto turns to Shizuru as Mai's steps fade out into the distance. Her eyes are serious again, carrying an age that seems far too large for her body. Shizuru wonders just how different they really are.

"She'd kill me for telling you this, but Natsuki really likes you," she says suddenly, oblivious to the way Shizuru's stomach does a nervous flip in her throat, "so I'm not gonna threaten you or anything. You'd probably be able to snap me like a twig anyway."

"Probably."

"But just... tell me one thing."

"Of course."

"You're doing this because you like her back, right? This isn't just some sort of… I don't know, a game to you?"

Shizuru inches forward until she holds Mikoto's hand in her own – warm and small, but still strong. A good grip. "I promise you, Mikoto-san. This is most definitely not a game."

She studies her for a second, sweeping those eyes up and down and back up again before settling at their joined hands. A smile creeps onto her face until it grows into a grin, and suddenly she's young again, her eyes squinting with mirth. The shroud cast over her shoulders vanishes into smoke and makes Shizuru wonder if she imagined it all.

"Then that's all I need to know! Mhm!" She moves fast for a human – Mikoto sweeps her up in a hug before she has time to react, pressing close and tight before bounding away. "I hope you're ready for so many cradle-robber jokes you'll _wish_ you were dead! Well, more dead."

The door flings open and she stampedes down the hall, a rallying cry of _manju_ as Shizuru hears her feet skid into the kitchen. She sits there for a moment, blinking in the new light, wondering exactly what she's gotten herself into.

Strangely, she doesn't mind at all.


End file.
